Fridays are Red, Tuesdays are Blue
by Night.Owl.34
Summary: Or, the one in which Lucas Friar is currently standing on her doorstep and all of the repressed feelings that she'd had for years come rushing back. (Futurefic, Lucaya, Riarkle if you squint). ALSO ON AO3 under serendipitouspeach.
1. Chapter 1

"Shit."

Only one expletive slipped out of my mouth but many more were flying through my brain as I quickly stepped back into the hallway and shut the door, leaning back against it.

"Fuck. Dammit." I whispered to myself.

"Who was that?" My gaze flew up to see my studio mate Jen walking down the hall toward me, mixing some paint in a jar.

"No one, it's fine," I said, spinning around and locking the door.

Jen furrowed her eyebrows, and tilted her head to the side, "Didn't seem like no one, you literally slammed the door after a few seconds-,"

"It was no one!" I said loudly, pushing past her as I swiftly made my way down the hall and into my studio space.

"Okay!" Jen called after me, mocking my tone.

I grabbed my bag and keys and phone and took a deep breath.

"Dammit, Friar" I said quietly to myself, shaking my head before making my way out the back, trying my hardest not to be seen by a certain someone that had suddenly decided to reappear on my doorstep on a Tuesday afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry there was an issue for a bit with the first chapter being all coded, I fixed it as soon as I could. Further, I apologize that the chapter was so short! I'm still getting my ideas sorted for this one, so hang tight. I promise there is more coming.**

 **Best,  
Elizabeth.**

* * *

I managed to get to a subway station a few blocks over without going in front of my studio building again. Still paranoid, I spent the whole ride back to my place jittery and fidgeting, unable to get my mind off of the fact that Lucas Friar was back in New York.

I rushed up the steps of the station to street level, well, as much as one could rush in a crowd of people, and half-ran half-jogged to my apartment building down the block.

I was already calling Riley by the time I was unlocking my apartment door and she answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Riles," I said, out of breath, "He's back," I kicked the door shut and threw my keys and bag onto the counter.

"What?" She asked, confused, as I kicked my shoes off and plopped down on my couch.

"Huckl- Lucas. Lucas Friar, he showed up at my studio like forty-five minutes ago and all I could do was slam the door in his face and sneak out the back.

The other end of the line was quiet and all I could hear was rustling. It sounded like Riley had the phone shoved against her shoulder. I listened closer, hearing Riley's muffled voice, "It's Maya, It didn't go well,"

"Riles?" I asked inquisitively, "Riley, what are you talking about?" I sat up straighter.

There was some more rustling, "Peaches?" She asked in a small voice.

"Riley, what do you know?" I asked, holding my breath and squeezing my eyes shut.

Silence.

"Riley!" I said louder, my voice straining.

"Fine! I'm sorry, he called Farkle last week saying he was going to be in town for some conference thing and asked if he wanted to meet to catch up. We met yesterday and he asked about you and, well…"

"Well, what?" I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Imaybesortofgavehimyourstudioaddressandpossiblyyourphonenumbertoo"

"Riley!"

"I'm sorry!" She said, "He just looked so hopeful and it really seemed like he wanted to see you. You guys have so much history and you can't blame me for not wanting you to throw it all away completely. I promise, I was just trying to help!"

I sighed, opening my eyes and staring at the wall across the room.

"It's fine, Riles, don't worry about it." I said.

"You're not mad? What aren't you mad? You're supposed to mad!" She said worriedly.

"Riley, it's fine, I'll handle it," I said, surprisingly calm.

"Okay… well, call me, alright? Let me know what happens."

"Will do. Bye, Riles." I said, hitting end call.

"Alright," I said out loud to myself, "Time to change my phone number."

* * *

By the next morning I'd heard nothing from Lucas. Riley, though, had been just the opposite. I'd finally told her I was turning my phone off until lunch time because I really needed to focus on finishing my pieces for my upcoming gallery showing. I couldn't do that with her texting me every five minutes asking for what she called a "Ranger Rick Report".

I was working on one of the last pieces that I had to finish for the showing when I heard the door open down the hall. I was in the back of my studio space and was doing my best to concentrate so I didn't bother to look and see who it was. I assumed it would be Jen, she tended to come in around 9 every morning and I'd come in early that day. It hadn't felt like two hours had passed already, but I knew that time flew by when I was painting. There was a reason it had been my escape for years.

"Hey, Jen," I yelled, hoping I was loud enough that she could hear me, "What time is the gallery letting us start to set up on Friday?"

I listening intently for her reply but instead found myself confused and a bit concerned as to why I heard Jen in conversation with someone else. I stepped back from my painting for a moment and listened again. That's when the realization hit me.

"No. Shit, no." I whisper-yelled setting my paint and brush down on the table next to me. I wiped my hands on my shirt and scrambled around the room, trying my best to grab my things as fast as I could.

The voices were getting closer and I was still struggling to find my phone, having no idea where I'd put it two hours before.

"Maya?" I squeezed my eyes shut.

Shit.

I dropped my bag on the floor and turned around slowly, gritting my teeth.

"Hi, Lucas," I said, forcing my words out.

He shifted uncomfortably in the doorway next to Jen, who was leaning against the wall, her eyebrows raised.

"I see that Jen let you in," I said, turning to her and giving her a pointed look.

She just glanced at him and then back at me and smiled.

"Yeah…" Lucas said slowly, glancing between Jen and I worriedly.

"I'm sorry to intrude-," He started but I cut him off, stepping toward him.

"Nonsense, no intrusion here!" I grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him into the room.

"Thanks, Jen!" I said, my tone sickeningly sweet, as I shooed her out of the room. She gave me a glare and hesitated a moment before leaving. I knew she had wanted to see how it panned out, but I wasn't going to give her that satisfaction. She'd clearly been in contact with Riley about this.

As soon as she rounded the corner from the hallway into her studio space and I heard the door shut I dropped Lucas' arm like he'd burned me.

I crossed my arms and looked at him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I yelled at him, as quietly as one could yell.

"I wanted to see you, Maya" He said, smiling.

"Yes, well, it didn't seem like that four years ago when you decided to up and leave for vet school in Texas without giving any of us a heads up!" I shouted.

"Maya, I didn't do it to hurt you, you know that being a vet was always my dream" He replied, his voice raising.

"Of course I knew that, I also thought that I knew your intentions! I thought you were staying in New York like you'd planned, like you'd told me,"

"Maya-,"

"No," I said, holding my head, "You told me you were going to go to vet school here in New York after we finished undergrad. We finished, we graduated, and all of a sudden one day you were telling me you were moving back to Texas. Who does that?!" I yelled.

"I didn't mean-,"

"I can't believe you are even here right now. The nerve you have to come here, to get Riley involved? Like hell you thought I'd want to see you. I want nothing to do with you and you know that. You left. I loved you and you left. I've moved on, Lucas. You need to realize that. You may have a big new shiny life down in Texas, but that doesn't mean that I am the same person who was here four years ago. I've changed, and, clearly, so did you. Now, if you'd be so kind to tap into that cowboy chivalry they have down south and get the hell out of my studio, that would be great," I finished, breathing hard.

He just stood there. I'd just finished screaming at him at the top of my lungs and he was still standing there. I raised my eyebrows and gave him a look.

"Okay," He raised his hands up in surrender and backed out of the room, "I'll go."

He turned around in the doorway and I moved away from where I'd been standing. I didn't want to see him anymore.

I was angry. Not even just angry, I was fuming. I was breathing hard, and my mind was spinning and I didn't know what to do. I flung out my arm and knocked over the empty easel that was standing next to me. It collapsed at the motion and fell to the floor. It wasn't enough. My aggression was still boiling and I needed to let it out. I didn't want to scream as I didn't want to make Jen come in and have her start asking questions.

My mind was reeling, my heart was racing. I turned around as fast as I could and before I knew it my fist was making contact with the concrete wall. All I could feel was pain searing through my hand and down my wrist. I gasped for air, it felt like it had all been sucked out of my lungs. I held my hand and stumbled backwards. My mind was beginning to get cloudy, I'd never been in so much pain in my entire life. I was faintly aware as I backed into the table that held my water and paint, and I felt it slide back behind me and soon I was sprawled on the ground. I heard the jar of water shatter as it hit the floor and I could hear feet pounding down the hallway.

"Oh my god," I could sort of hear Jen's voice, but it felt like there was cotton in my ears.

"Maya!" Now that didn't sound like Jen.

My chest was tight and I couldn't breathe and my mind was still so foggy and then everything was silent.


	3. Chapter 3

I groaned as I came to, not wanting to open my eyes and feeling like the beeping in the room was far too loud to be acceptable. I finally mustered the strength and motivation to move out of the stiff position I was laying in and attempted to push myself into a sitting position. That's when I realized that my right hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and the pain started to set in.

"No, no, no- Peaches, lay down,"

I slowly opened my eyes, and, though she was a bit blurry and I was still a bit groggy, I could tell it was Riley standing next to me, helping me lay back down.

"What the hell did I do," I muttered, slumping back against the bed.

"Well," I opened my eyes, squinting at the bright light, and looked at Riley who was standing next to me with her arms crossed, "You broke your hand."

My eyes widened and I stiffened, looking at my hand.

"No, no, no, nononono-,"

"Maya,"

"No, shit, no! This is my hand we're talking about! It can't be broken, I need to paint, it's kind of my job. Riles- shit! The gallery showing! What am I supposed to do about the showing? I still have pieces to finish!"

"Maya, calm down, breathe for me, okay?" Riley stepped forward and placed her hands on my shoulders, attempting to calm down my frantic movements and hyperventilation.

I shut my eyes and let out a breath. I was devastated.

"We'll figure it out. Okay, Peaches?" I kept my eyes closed and nodded softly, even though I didn't believe her. There wasn't a way to 'figure it out' I had a broken hand and no way to paint with an incredibly important gallery showing in roughly seventy-two hours. There was no fixing this.

* * *

Two hours later I was discharged from what I had eventually figured out was the emergency room, massive cast and all. I'd chosen a basic black wrapping for it, telling Riley that not only was it the color of my current mood, but that it also matched with everything.

I had learned that both Jen and Lucas accompanied me to the ER, but were both sent home after Riley arrived upon being called by Jen. My assumption was that my studio-mate had gone back to the studio to work as she was showing at the gallery on Sunday as well. I had no clue what Lucas was doing and I could have really cared less. His presence was what had done me in in the first place. I wouldn't have punched the stupid wall if he hadn't made me so angry..

Riley was taking me back to her apartment for a few hours to 'keep an eye on me' as she said. I still had some painkillers in my system and she was still as protective as she'd always been.

"I think Farkle's home," Riley said as we exited the elevator. She was digging in her purse to find her keys and I just stood there feeling extremely useless. I was in a little bit of pain, but that's not what bothered me. What bothered me was the stupid cast and sling I'd left the hospital with. The cast started at the middle of my forearm and covered my whole hand. My thumb was exposed and so was my index finger, but my middle, ring, and pinky fingers were all encompassed in the cast as well. I hated it. Further, they'd insisted on giving me a sling before I'd left, saying that it would ease the pressure off my hand. As much as I'd protested, Riley finally agreed for me, saying that I'd wear it for at least twelve hours.

Riley finally unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing her cozy apartment. She held the door open for me, and as I surpassed her into the hallway of the apartment I stopped right in my tracks. I tried to turn around and make my way right back out of the apartment but Riley grabbed my shoulders gently and spun me back around, pushing me into the dining room.

"You need to stop running away!" Riley said as she guided me into the room where Farkle and Lucas sat.

She plunked me down in a chair across from Lucas before stopping next to Farkle and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for taking this one in," She said quietly, nodding toward Lucas.

"Anytime." He replied, smiling.

"Ugggghhhh," I groaned, letting my head drop to the table.

"She's grumpy because her hand hurts and she doesn't like her cast," Riley said, sitting down next to me.

"Or the sling," I mumbled against the table.

"Or the sling." Riley repeated.

"Maya," Lucas said. I felt Riley pull me up back into a sitting position, but I avoided Lucas' gaze.

"Look, I'm really sorry for what happened. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, and I feel terrible."

I finally looked up at him. He had the saddest look in his eyes I'd ever seen him wear and he looked very concerned whenever he glanced down at my hand. I shifted so that my hand and wrist were hidden by the table. I didn't need his pity. I was still angry.

"I don't need your pity, Cowboy. I'm still mad at you. You made me angry by showing up here after four years with no warning and expecting me to be happy and willing to talk to you. You left. You left all of us, and you know what? I don't care what the rest of them say or do, you are not welcome back here. Not by me."

I scraped my chair back and stood up, hugging my injured hand to my body.

"Thanks for ruining things all over again," I said, shaking my head, before making my way out of the room, down the hallway, and into the guestroom, shutting the door behind me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this is so belated! It's a crazy busy week for me. Enjoy!**

* * *

I left Riley's early the next morning. She'd made me stay the night after I'd gotten upset and told me that it was no trouble for Farkle to drop me off at my apartment on his way to work. I'd begrudgingly agreed as I was exhausted and all I could think of was my head needing to hit a pillow as soon as possible.

Alas, the next morning I was sat in a town car next to Farkle, having been fed and watered like a tiny plant by Riley roughly twenty minutes earlier.

"You sure you'll be okay?" Farkle asked as we neared my apartment.

I turned to him and gave him a look, "Farkle, for the last time, I'll be fine. I know that I have to tie a plastic bag around my hand to shower, I have ibuprofen in my cupboard, and I am fully capable of hailing a cab if I need to get to the studio. Though, I will have to use my other hand…"

He smiled, "Good. _We_ both know you'll be just fine," He said gesturing between the two of us, "It's just that Riley gave me puppy dog eyes this morning while you were getting ready and asked me to check in on you at least twice before we got to your place,"

"Of course she did," I said, turning back to look forward with a smug look on my face.

"And, I caved," He finished.

"Of course you did," I replied, shaking my head.

Soon enough we pulled up in front of my building and the driver beat me to opening my door. I glanced back at Farkle, thanking him for the ride, before sliding out of the car, thanking the driver, and making my way into the building.

* * *

It was two p.m. by the time I was showered, and dressed, and had some pain relief thanks to the ibuprofen that had finally kicked in. I was exhausted still, and was laying on my couch, feet balanced on the ikea coffee table I'd definitely built incorrectly, scrolling through the channels on my TV. Like always it seemed like there was nothing to watch, and I finally just turned the TV off and slumped back against the couch. I'd been battling the ever so intrusive fear of missing out all day as I wasn't able to finish any more artwork at the moment and wouldn't be able to participate in the gallery showing that I'd been looking forward to for so long.

I'd pouted as I let my hair dry after my shower, bagged arm and all, pacing around my tiny kitchen. There was nothing that I could do to fix this. My hand was useless, and not only could I not learn to paint with my left hand in forty-eight hours, it wouldn't look good nor anywhere near the same as the rest of the work that was already done. I was stuck.

I'd been dreading calling the gallery to tell them that I wouldn't be able to present a whole series because of my hand. I'd been bracing myself for the rejection, the inevitable reply that would tell me that I was to be replaced by someone else and that my pieces would not get to be displayed this time around. Thus, I hadn't called them yet. Better yet, it was something that Riley hadn't brought up in the hundred texts that she'd already sent me today, so I was kinda sorta off the hook.

My phone buzzed again on the couch next to me, and I reached over to grab it assuming it was another message from Riley.

 _ **Unknown Number:**_

 **It's Lucas, I know you don't want to see me, but I'm outside your building, could you buzz me up? I want to talk to you.**

I threw my phone back onto the cushion in frustration.

It buzzed again.

And again.

 _ **Unknown Number:**_

 **Maya?**

 _ **Unknown Number:**_

 **Please, just buzz me up? I promise it won't be long. I know I'm the last person you want to see.**

I caved and typed a quick response.

 _ **To: Unknown Number**_

 **Fine. But make it quick.**

I dropped my phone onto the cushion again and stood up, making my way over to the door where I buzzed down to the front entrance to let him in. I paced around the tiny living area and waited until there was a knock on the door. I didn't bother to check the peephole, mostly because I was too short, but partly because I knew he was the only one who had warned me that he was here.

I opened the door and there he was. My stony expression fell into one of confusion as I realized he was standing there holding a grocery bag full of something in one arm, and what looked to be like my easel and one of my unfinished paintings in the other.

"Hi," He said awkwardly.

I stepped aside so he could come in, still confused as to why he had my things and how he'd gotten them in the first place.

"Hi…" I said slowly as he walked into the apartment. I shut the door with my shoulder and turned around, leaning against it.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, trying my best to remember that I was still angry at him.

He'd set the stuff down on the floor and was now standing before me, awkwardly wringing his hands.

"Look, I know I've apologized already, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry again. This is all my fault, and I want to make it up to you," He said.

I crossed my arms and eyed him suspiciously.

"How does that have anything to do with the fact that you somehow got my painting stuff?" I asked, shifting my weight.

He let out a breath and smiled, "I want to help you paint again."


	5. Chapter 5

**I am so sorry this is so belated, and that it is short. I have been extremely busy having moved back to school and having been in heavy training for my job from 8am-7pm daily for the last week. I will do my best to update with more soon!**

* * *

My face went blank, and my mouth fell open a bit.

"What?" I asked, uncrossing my arms and wincing at the pain that shot through my hand.

Lucas' gaze faltered as he saw my flash of pain but he quickly looked back at me and started to explain.

"I'm going to be your guide," He said, smiling,

I was still confused and extremely skeptical, "What are you even talking about," I said over my shoulder as I walked back to the living room and sat down on the couch. I curled my feet under me as Lucas followed and sat down in a chair across from me.

"Look, I know how much you love painting and I know I took that away from you. I want to make it up to you, and the one solution I could think of was to act as your hands. Sort of…"

He looked at me nervously, and I saw him wringing his hands.

"What exactly does that mean?" I said.

Lucas smiled. "I am going to paint, and you're going to direct me. When it comes to the little details I can always guide your hand with mine so you have more control. We'll stop when you're in pain and we'll take it as slowly as we need to. You're almost done with these pieces so I know we at least have a _chance_ of finishing-,"

"No." I said, standing up.

"What?" He asked, confused at my sudden interjection.

"I said no. I'm not doing it."

He stood up too, looking concerned.

"Why not? Maya, I'm just trying to help you,"

"I know," I said, looking down at my feet, "And that's very kind of you, Lucas-,"

"Why can't you just accept some help, Maya?" He interrupted me. I looked up at him.

"Don't you want to have a chance at this art show?" He asked.

I opened my mouth to say something but found myself at a loss for words.

"I'm doing my best here, Maya. I still care about you and I want to help you,"

I froze.

"Maya?" Lucas asked, noticing my lack of response.

I exhaled. "I don't want to get my hopes up, okay?" I said, forcing a smile.

His brow furrowed, "Maya, hope's not for suckers," I avoided eye contact.

"Please?" He asked, a genuine look in his eyes.

"Fine." I caved, "You can help me paint."

His face grew into a grin and I continued to avoid contact.

"So, when do you want to start?" He asked, clapping his hands together.

I looked up at him, regaining my stoic composure. "Tomorrow,"

His face fell, "Oh, okay," I curled my lips in and crossed my arms as best I could.

He began to make his way back toward the door and I slowly followed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Maya," He said, pulling the door open and turning back toward me.

I nodded, lifting my good hand in goodbye. The door shut behind him and I reached forward to lock it.

I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and started dialling Riley's number, thinking to myself 'What on Earth did I just agree to?'


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry it's been so long, I didn't mean to leave you all. I finished this chapter up today and figured I'd work on finishing this** **story up during my break. Enjoy!**

* * *

The next morning I left my apartment with damp hair and an anxious pit in the bottom of my stomach. I managed to hail a cab as best as I could and spent the entire ride trying to think of excuses I could give to Lucas when I got there so that I didn't have to sit with him any longer than was necessary.

So caught up in my own anxiety, I didn't notice that the cab had stopped in front of my studio.

"You gonna get out?" I blinked and realized where I was before quickly mumbling something and handing the driver the folded cash that I'd been clutching in my good hand for the entire ride.

I opened the car door and stepped out, pushing it shut behind me. I waited a second while the cab pulled back onto the street and tried to mentally calm down enough to go inside.

"Maya,"

I turned at my name, and realized that Jen was standing at the top of the stoop holding the door open.

"Hey," I said, still standing there, unsure of what to do. I knew that if I went inside I would definitely have to see Lucas but if I never went in, I wouldn't have to follow through on my committment.

"Maya," Jen said again and I looked up, "Are you coming in?"

I held my breath for a beat, still flipping back and forth between my choices.

"Lucas!" I turned around at Jen's exclamation, finding the man himself making his way down the sidewalk.

"Hey," He waved to Jen and smiled before turning to me, "You ready?" He asked quietly.

I nodded before I knew what I was doing and followed his path as he made his way up the stairs and through the doorway where Jen was leading the way.

I supposed my decision had been made for me.

* * *

Twenty incredibly awkward minutes passed, full of me shuffling around my studio room gathering supplies as best as I could with Lucas sitting silently on one of my stools in the corner.

Finally I'd gathered the paints and brushes I needed to finish off at least one of my paintings. I made my way over to the easel that held the large canvas we were going to be working on. There was just a small area in the corner and a few touch-ups to finish, so I hoped it wouldn't take long.

"You want some help?" Lucas asked, finally breaking through the stale silence that had hung in the air for the last twenty minutes.

I glanced over at him, my hair falling in my face, as I continued to slowly place the materials I was holding down onto the table beside us.

I was silent, a bit at a loss for words. I wasn't used to having other people in my studio space. Even Jen, who worked in the same studio as me, was rarely in my studio room. We both just kept to ourselves, knowing that each other's spaces were safe havens in which we could truly relax and express ourselves.

Lucas reached over and took a few things from my arms and placed them down on the table so I was able to set the rest down without dropping everything everywhere. He grabbed another stool and lifted it over the canvas to sit in front of him and slightly to the left, gesturing for me to sit down.

Still unsure of what to say, I took a seat facing the canvas. I busied myself with finding the brush I'd been using the last time I'd worked on this piece and by attempting to pick up my pallette. I was so nervous and jittery, I managed to knock over my brush holder as I tried to lift my pallette up to my lap.

"Damn it." I whispered under my breath, trying to scramble to gather all of the brushes as they rolled around the floor. Only being able to use my non-dominant hand was proving a bit difficult in trying to grasp the thin brushes that I'd spilled.

"Hey," I heard Lucas say from behind me. At this point, I was on my hands and knees (to the extent of my ability) trying to sweep all of the brushes closer to me with my bad hand while holding myself up with the other.

"Maya," I stopped. I sat back on my heels and looked up at him, "It's okay, don't be nervous." He knelt down and, in a few quick sweeps, gathered all of the brushes into a pile and picked them all up, dropping them back into the jar they'd been in before.

He reached out his hand to help me up and I took it. I sat down again on the stool and took a deep breath. Suddenly I felt his hand on my shoulder, "It'll be fine, I promise."

I looked down toward the table on which my supplies sat, trying to remind myself that this was fine; he was only trying to help me. Nothing more, nothing less.

I picked up my pallette and handed it to Lucas, who sat it on his right knee. I then reached for my brush, taking it in my left hand and not-so-graciously passing it into my right hand where I grasped it slowly. Lucas reached up behind me and wrapped his hand around mine, holding both the brush and my hand firmly. My breath caught in my throat for a second at the contact as I stared at our hands.

"Where do we start?" He asked, breaking my gaze away from our hands. I looked up at the canvas. It was a simple seascape; one I'd captured years back when Riley and I were out at the coast for a long weekend with her family.

I reached my hand forward and felt Lucas' arm extend with mine. I gently brought the brush to the canvas and began simple strokes. As the seconds passed I felt the tension in my body begin to ease, gaining my familiar rhythm again. I could barely hold the brush, only really apply and retract pressure to the brush and guide Lucas and I's hands across the canvas. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but one I was slowly getting used to.

Lucas and I stayed quiet, taking our time putting small strokes of shades of blue here and there. He never resisted any of my movements or strokes, he only followed along quietly and let me be his guide.

* * *

Two hours passed in record time and we had gotten down to the final few touch ups. I slowly dabbed my brush into a teal color, finishing off the reflection in the water. I sat back and Lucas let go of my hand. I was brought out of my headspace that I usually fell into while painting when I felt the loss of contact. I turned toward him.

"I'm sorry, I- I thought we were done," His face looked worried, scanning mine for an answer.

"We are," I replied, reaching for a thin brush with a smidge of paint on it, "We just need to sign it."

"We?" He looked confused.

I nodded, looking back at the canvas.

He placed his hand onto mine once again and my heart fluttered at the warmth of his hand on mine. I mentally told myself to stop, to not go there again, before slowly bringing my brush to the canvas, signing my name. I finished and handed the brush over to Lucas, who signed his name quickly, setting the brush down on the table.

Feeling a rising sense of discomfort and anxiety, I rubbed my hands on my jeans, attempting to get most of the paint off, and began busying myself with gathering the supplies that were out. I stood up and brought my brushes to the sink and turned the tap on. I did my best to scrub them clean with just my left hand before dropping them into the jar that sat by the sink. I didn't realize I had been scrubbing them so aggressively and for so long until I felt Lucas come up behind me, reaching over me to turn of the water.

"Maya," I froze, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Maya, please, just listen to me," He took the brush out of my hand and set it on the side of the sink, before guiding me back toward the middle of the room. I had my eyes trained on the floor the whole time, knowing that if I looked at him, I would crack more. And I couldn't. I'd already let him this far into my life, there was no need to disassemble my walls any further.

I felt him take both of my hands in his, careful as ever with the one in the cast. I was still looking down as he began to speak.

"Maya, I know that this is incredibly hard for you," He started, "Letting someone into your sacred space, your creative process, that is something that takes a lot of courage. The fact that you let me in means a lot, especially knowing what happened between the two of us,"

I rolled my lips in and felt my heartbeat begin to pick up.

"You took a chance on me with this, and I can't thank you enough for it. It was a huge step, and,"

He lifted my head up with two fingers placed under my chin so I was looking him in the eye.

"I just want to ask you to take another chance on me,"

Before I knew it he was leaning in and so was I. My eyes closed as our lips met and all of the feelings from four years ago came rushing back. Our lips moved one with the other, molding back into the pair we once were. He let go of my hands and brought them to rest on the side of my face. I lifted mine to his waist, relaxing into the kiss. A moment later we broke apart, and my eyes were still shut as he rested his forehead against mine, breathing deep.

I rolled my lips together once again and took a deep breath, realizing what had just happened. I lifted my hands from his waist, crossing my arms and taking a step back.

"You should go," I said quietly, keeping my gaze at the floor.

It was silent for a moment before I heard him let out a breath he had been holding. He sidestepped and picked up his coat from the chair near us before making his way out of the room. I waited until I heard the front door open and close before I let out my breath. I wiped roughly at the few tears that had begun to fall down my cheeks before taking my phone out of my back pocket to call Riley. What the hell had I just done.


	7. Chapter 7

I was sat in the corner of my studio room, arms resting on my knees, in silence when Riley came running through the main studio door.

"Peaches!" She yelled as she pounded on my studio room door, and I made no effort to get up and open it.

The door flung open and slammed against the wall and Riley's small figure came bursting through. I could feel her gaze on me as she let whatever she was holding drop to the floor along with her coat.

"Peaches?" She asked quietly, shutting the room door behind her.

I sniffled, unable to hold it in as the tears began flowing again, and she immediately rushed over and sat down next to me.

"Hey," She whispered, "It's okay," She brushed my hair out of my face and grabbed hold of my good hand in hers.

"I can't do this anymore," I choked out through my sobs.

"What? What can't you do anymore?" Riley gripped my hand tighter.

I pulled my hand from hers and wiped at my face before pushing myself to my feet.

"I can't do this- this damn tango with Lucas anymore." I spat, flinging my hands. "I can't let him back in, Riley. He left. I need to remember that. He left and he stayed away, he took four years to come back and there's no reason I should take him back...right?" I finished rambling and realized I'd been pacing.

Riley gave a small smile before standing up herself.

"Peaches," She said, taking my hand again. "Do you love him?"

I swallowed, feeling my face grow damp again as more tears made their tracks down my cheeks. I nodded slowly.

"Okay, then leap," She squeezed my hand, "Maya he's here, that's what matters. Yes, he did leave, but he also made the effort to come back. He loves you, Maya, and if you love him then take that leap of faith and let him catch you."

* * *

I sat in my apartment for the rest of the day, ignoring every call and text I got from Lucas, and barely responded to the ones from Riley and the few from Farkle that I knew had been sent by Riley using Farkle's phone.

I woke up Friday morning around six having realized I'd fallen asleep on my couch watching TV the night before. I sat up and realized that my face was sticky with dried tears and my neck was stiff from sleeping funny.

I reached over to my coffee table for my phone, hugging my casted hand to my body as I felt a wave of pain flash through it.

I looked down at my small device and realized I had even more missed calls and text messages than I'd had the night before. I scrolled quickly through the text messages and missed calls to find one near the top from Riley. 'Just leap, Maya.' it read. I let out a breath and looked at the message above it. It was from Jen and she was asking what time I'd be at the gallery tomorrow which was now today.

Shit.

The gallery.

* * *

I flew off the couch and into my room, flinging my phone down onto my bed and running over to my closet. I started yanking clothes off the hangers, trying to figure out what I was possibly going to wear to the showing. I finally decided on a dress I'd gotten with Riley a while back and some boots, tossing the items onto my bed. I yanked on my paint-covered jeans and an old Abigail Adams high school t-shirt before grabbing my nice clothes and doing my best to fold them and put them into a bag. I scrambled around the living room grabbing my phone and keys and coat and shoes before rushing out the door to the studio.

I managed to finish my last two pieces in a "measly" four hours. I'd gotten to the studio around 7 in the morning and it was nearing 11:00 AM by the time I'd signed the last canvas. It turned out that Jen had nearly spent the night there, and had gotten back about as early as I'd come in.

The van from the gallery was coming over at 11:30 to pick up our canvases to transport them over to the showing room and to set them up.

That said, I had a half an hour to kill. I'd already scrubbed my brushes as best I could and had wiped down the table I'd been using, so there was no real cleaning up to be done. I paced the room for a bit before I stopped in my tracks and let out a breath I'd been holding.

I closed my eyes and thought of all of the stuff that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. It was almost too much to handle. I shook my head and spun around, pacing again.

"No." I said out loud, stopping my pacing abruptly. "Dammit, Maya, no."

I scoffed at myself and realized the position I was in. Lucas I were once a thing. We used to be, Maya and Lucas, and now, we weren't. I realized that I'd never gotten over it. I'd convinced myself and everyone around me that I had for the past four years. I'd pretended like I was okay and that Lucas leaving was not my fault and that I was over him, and I wasn't.

Riley was right, I knew what I needed to do. I grabbed my sketchbook from the table and pulled out my stool before sitting down and getting to work. I was leaping, and no one was there to stop me.


	8. Chapter 8

I was pacing again, this time in the gallery. The doors were about to open and Jen and I were both incredibly anxious about the reactions of people and the gallery owners to our work. I stopped walking and smoothed my dress, making sure, for the tenth time, that there were no wrinkles in it.

"Ladies? We're going to open the doors now." I turned toward the gallery worker who'd just spoken and before I knew it the doors were open and people were filing in. That was it. I couldn't handle it. I spun around and brushed past Jen who called after me making my way swiftly toward the back of the gallery. I grabbed hold of the handle of the door leading out to the back staircase in the building and rushed down the steps.

I couldn't stand the anxiety that had overcome me; I had never been so nervous in my life. I made it down the stairs and out into the damp night air. There was a chill outside, but to me it felt like I was finally able to get a breath of fresh air.

I was breathing hard and shivering from the cold a bit, leaning against the wall of the brick building when my phone vibrated. I glanced at it, it was Jen. I ignored the text and stared back up at the sky. It was hardly dark thanks to the city lights but there was a calmness that flowed through me as I felt my breathing slow down and my heart rate lower.

My phone vibrated again and then started ringing. I hit answer as I saw Riley's picture pop up on my screen.

"Where are you? Are you okay? Did you forget? What happ-,"

"I'm outside. Out back." I interrupted her, my voice small.

"Oh," She said, stopping her ramble, "Peaches, I'll be right there." And the call ended.

Not a minute later, the door I'd come out of fifteen minutes earlier opened and Riley stepped out into the beam of light cast down by the lamp attached to the side of the building.

"What's going on, Maya?" Riley asked quietly, leaning against the wall beside me.

I looked down and caught a glimpse of my hand. The stupid cast stared right back up at me.

I let out a laugh and Riley turned.

"Why are you laughing?" She asked, confused.

I let out a breath, "How can you not?" I asked, and she still looked puzzled.

"Riles, I broke my hand. Lucas came back, I broke my hand, he helped me finish my pieces, I kissed him, I made him leave- I'm a mess! It's- it's just a mess."

"Maya, it's not a mess-." Riley stepped forward.

"It is, and it's one that I caused. I do it every time, it's just in my nature. Tornadoes fall in my path, and all that's left is dust and bruises. Riley, I couldn't even finish my own paintings! I couldn't even stay in the gallery when they opened the doors because I was so nervous."

"Maya, that's not your fault, none of this is your fault, things just happen and they happen how they're supposed to."

I shook my head and looked back up at the sky.

"You know what I did?" I asked quietly, "I drew Lucas. I asked the people setting up the gallery this afternoon to pin it up next to one of my pieces. The first one Lucas helped me finish. I did a stupid sketch of the face of the person I've been in love with for years and I asked the gallery to put it up next to massive canvases that I've worked on for months. How ridiculous is that?"

"Maya, that's not ridiculous. What's going on, Peaches? What's really the matter?" She put a hand on my arm and I finally looked at her. She had worry in her eyes and I saw that she was no longer the person I'd met when I was seven. She was no longer the girl I started high school with and she was no longer the daydreamer full of innocence that I once knew. Riley had grown up. So had I. We all had, and we were in the throes of young adulthood trying to navigate our way through it as best as we could.

"I don't know if I can take him back." I said, my voice breaking.

"Maya," Riley said, her tone sympathetic.

"What if he leaves again? What- what if I put everything back into this again and it just ends up the same way it did before?" I said, my voice getting watery. I wiped at my face, brushing away the few tears that had made tracks down my face.

"Maya." Riley took hold of both of my hands, as gently as possible, "Yesterday you told me you loved him, and, considering that he's upstairs in the gallery waiting for you right now, makes it pretty clear to me that he feels the same way about you. He wouldn't have come back if he didn't."

I sniffed and nodded, wiping at my face again. "You are such a strong and soulful young woman and there are so many people here that care about you. Lucas cares about you, and like I said yesterday, sometimes you just have to take that leap of faith. Yes, things could turn sour again, but you have to hope for the best rather than expect the worst. You need to have some faith in yourself and in him that things might actually turn out okay."

"God, I'm sorry, Riley." I said, stepping back and wiping under my eyes, "I know I need to just go for it. I just need to do it."

She smiled, "We'll be there every step of the way."

"Thunder?" She asked.

"Lightning." I responded, and linked our pinkies.

We made our way back into the building and up to the gallery. It was bustling when we walked back in, the crowd's murmur loud enough to fill the room. People were walking from piece to piece, chatting with one another, observing each fine detail Jen and I had put into all of our work.

"I'll be over here," Riley whispered, squeezing my hand and pushing my forward out into the crowd. I glanced back over my shoulder at her and saw her taking Farkle's hand and leaning into him.

I turned back around and looked through the crowd, trying to find Lucas. After scanning the room of people, I finally spotted his tall figure standing in front of the piece we'd finished together.

I took a breath and walked over to him, reaching into my pocket for the crumpled piece of paper I'd grabbed from my studio that I'd written on that first night he'd shown up.

I tapped him on the shoulder as I came up behind him.

"Hey," I said as he turned around.

I took a deep breath as our eyes met before I looked back down at my hands where I was gripping the piece of paper.

"I have a lot to say to you, and it's all jumbled and doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I've been thinking about it since you showed up at my studio on Tuesday. I thought I'd made up my mind about you, and I certainly had made up my mind about Tuesdays that day. I thought I'd gotten over you, that I'd moved on for good- but I hadn't. I thought I could keep my distance without falling again, but it turns out that I couldn't. It turns out that Tuesdays don't suck as much as I once thought they did and that Fridays, like this one, are pretty damn great." I gestured around the room to the crowd that seemed to keep getting bigger and bigger. He smiled.

I looked down again as I slowly uncrumpled the piece of paper, "I am really not great with words, and I am clearly no Shakespeare, but that didn't stop me from writing you this cheesy poem."

I looked up at him, smiling softly. "Fridays are red, Tuesdays are blue, don't tell anyone but I'm still in love with you." I dropped my hands to my sides and waited with bated breath.

There was a beat of silence and then Lucas's hands were on the side of my face and we were kissing. I dropped the paper as my hands found their way back to his waist and I leaned into the kiss.

"Woo!" I heard someone cheer behind us. I smiled into the kiss, having no doubt in my mind that it was Riley from across the room.

A moment later, we broke our kiss and I opened my eyes. I stepped back and looked into his gaze.

"I love you too." He said quietly, pulling me into a warm embrace. I closed my eyes again, taking in the moment. The gallery, Lucas, my friends, the support was endless and I had finally taken my leap. I was happy, really happy.

Suddenly, Lucas leaned down to whisper in my ear, "But really, Roses are red Violets are blue? How original." I felt him smile into my cheek as he placed a gentle kiss there. I pulled back from the hug to hit him lightly on the chest, before leaning back into him.

"Too bad you're stuck with me."

* * *

 **That's it, I hope you enjoyed. I'm sorry it took so long for me to finish this, I blame school, my schedule, and my inconsistent writing habits. Thank you again!**


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